She reached the ground floor and sprinted toward me, but a police officer held out his arm to stop her. “It’s okay,” I explained. “She’s my sister.” He let her pass and she dropped to her knees in front of me. “I can’t believe it. You found her.” She leaned close to look at her. “Is she all right?” “I think so,” I replied. “Holmes said she was on the floor in the bathroom, wrapped in a blanket.” “And you’re sure it’s your baby?” “We’re sure. She’s still wearing the identity bracelet from the hospital and the numbers match the one I’m wearing.” I showed her the band on my wrist. Besides that, there was no doubt in my mind that this was my daughter. I felt some sort of extraordinary paternal instinct. “Your lip…” Holly said, pointing at it. “You’re going to need stitches.” She looked around. “I wonder if someone has a first aid kit.” I awkwardly reached into my pocket for my phone. “I need to call Lois.” Letting go of the notion of treating my lip, Holly held out her arms.
